[Hector wakes, one arm asleep and every piece of him protesting a night spent on rocks, to the buzzing of the fairy's wings near his ear. The little creature points mutely at the entrance of the cave, now filling with light. 'Time to be up.'
Isaac's hair tickles against his nose, and Hector takes a moment to inhale, not wanting to begin the process of extracting himself and standing just yet. He shifts his head and his lips brush against Isaac's scalp, a press that is not quite a kiss. His fingers trail across his chest as he withdraws from the embrace, one final soft touch before the harshness that will inevitably follow when Issac awakens.
Hector rolls onto his back, groans softly, then starts to push himself up. His fairy summons up a wisp of magic to ease his aching muscles. He nods in Isaac's direction, a silent order to grant Isaac the same boon.
Being allowed those soft, stolen touches reminds Hector of his time with Rosaly. He won't turn her memory into hate. She was always the kind of person who was almost unreasonably good. She would want forgiveness, redemption for anyone, even one who had harmed her.
Hector has run his fingers across the jagged, broken pieces of Isaac, and he's not sure they are mendable. He's going to cut himself to ribbons if he tries. He's going to try. That, not the curse-driven desire to kill her killer, is what Rosaly would want of him.]
Are you awake? [He whispers. Outside of the cave, he thinks he hears movement, though it's hard to pinpoint. It is time to be up and away from this place.]
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Isaac's hair tickles against his nose, and Hector takes a moment to inhale, not wanting to begin the process of extracting himself and standing just yet. He shifts his head and his lips brush against Isaac's scalp, a press that is not quite a kiss. His fingers trail across his chest as he withdraws from the embrace, one final soft touch before the harshness that will inevitably follow when Issac awakens.
Hector rolls onto his back, groans softly, then starts to push himself up. His fairy summons up a wisp of magic to ease his aching muscles. He nods in Isaac's direction, a silent order to grant Isaac the same boon.
Being allowed those soft, stolen touches reminds Hector of his time with Rosaly. He won't turn her memory into hate. She was always the kind of person who was almost unreasonably good. She would want forgiveness, redemption for anyone, even one who had harmed her.
Hector has run his fingers across the jagged, broken pieces of Isaac, and he's not sure they are mendable. He's going to cut himself to ribbons if he tries. He's going to try. That, not the curse-driven desire to kill her killer, is what Rosaly would want of him.]
Are you awake? [He whispers. Outside of the cave, he thinks he hears movement, though it's hard to pinpoint. It is time to be up and away from this place.]